


Child of the Moon

by Nellidae97



Series: Foundling Jim Series [1]
Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, Baby Fluff, Baby Jim, Childhood Friends, Cultural Differences, Family Fluff, Fantastic Racism, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Human/Troll Hybrids, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Original Character(s), Parenthood, Past Child Abuse, Protectiveness, Troll Anatomy, Troll Jim Lake Jr., Troll related violence in later chapters, Worldbuilding, fluff with plot, more info on foundling!jim au on everylastbird tumblr, there be some spoilers there tho up to you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 18:52:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellidae97/pseuds/Nellidae97
Summary: They never planned on getting attached, but the little guy just has a way of cementing himself into the hearts of those he meets. This is the story of the infant halfling whelp that unintentionally bridges the gap between human and troll-kind.(The pre-canon fanfic of everylastbird’s Foundling!AU, in which Jim Lake Jr. is born as a half-troll half-human and is not Barbara Lake’s biological son, or anyone’s son for that matter, but manages to get lots of parents anyway.)





	Child of the Moon

Barbara Lake followed every piece of advice she was given going into her first ER rotation. The night before she stayed up past midnight at the 24-hour gym and slept at around 5AM. She did her best to be in well lit rooms whenever possible. Ate small portions throughout the shift. Avoided sugar and fatty foods, even the free pizza they were given. Cut off the caffeine four hours towards the end so she could sleep properly once it was over. 

Going in at 7PM she had felt invincible. Around 4AM she started to waver. If you had tried to ask the med student a question at 6AM she would have just sat there and stared at you as if you grew a second head. 

Needless to say, she wasn’t in the best condition to handle what was waiting for her at home. 

Pulling into her driveway, the first thing Barbara notices was that she had forgotten to close her garage door. She’s reminded of the particularly memorable encounter she had a couple nights earlier coming home late after studying for boards. Her car nearly smushed an annoying little raccoon that was digging through her trash. Exiting her vehicle, she walked over to inspect the mess. 

Except the raccoon wasn’t eating what was _inside_ the trash can. No no no, it ate _**the**_ trash can. A large section of the lid was missing, leaving behind what looked to be claw marks and teeth indents.

In fact, did that raccoon have horns? She had thought to herself at the time, only to brush it off as a trick of the light and sleep deprivation. The half-eaten trash can was just the result of a desperate, but perfectly normal animal. It’s gone and not her problem anymore. The tired redhead simply resolved to keep her trash can inside the garage in the future. 

Barbara examines the steel container she had carelessly left vulnerable during her first night shift, and saw that it had been unharmed. So she closes the garage, ascends the steps and inserts her keys into the door… only to realize that in her haste to be on time for her shift she didn’t lock the door to her house either. 

In her defense, Arcadia is a small, peaceful place and she’s never had issues in her neighborhood. Sue her.

However, the moment she throws the door back behind her, there’s a scratching noise coming from her kitchen. It was too small to be a person, thank god, but she heard whatever it was scrape her checkered tiles. She groans. Barbara could have sworn she vacuumed the whole house yesterday and kept all her food in containers this summer. Though the mice _have_ been managing to lick off the peanut butter from the snap traps. Please don’t be a rat, she thinks.

Armed with her trusty broom she steps to the kitchen area, mentally steeling herself to face any potential invader.

Only she didn’t find a mouse. Or a rat. It was much, much bigger.

The whatever-it-is catches her gaze and holds it with a deer-in-the-headlights look, sitting motionlessly with something haphazardly dangling from its mouth. 

The two of them stay there for a few moments, neither moving or making a sound but the soft click of Barbara’s glasses sliding down her nose. Her pupils twitch frantically as she tries to process what in the world she’s looking at. 

Sky blue skin. Black hair (fur?). Long pointy ears. Huge jutting fangs. Two ivory horns.

Horns. The animal she almost ran over a few nights ago. The horns weren’t just a product of lack of sleep and too much coffee. They were real. 

Barbara’s eyes dart over to the dangling object, realizing that it’s one of her stethoscopes. This may be the only thing keeping her from outright fainting, because _dammit_ , quality tools aren’t cheap.

After half a minute of the lanky medical student not doing anything, the small blue thing must’ve taken this as a sign to continue its meal. The moment she hears the first _crunch_ is when Barbara finally snaps.

“Okay nope, no, NO. Drop- _**drop**_ it!” With her broom she waves the straw end right up in the intruder’s face. It backs away on all fours, stethoscope dropping from its mouth with a yelp. Its face somehow manages to scrunch despite its stony texture as it takes in a breath to sneeze. A little paw brushes its face as it lets out a noise of sheer irritation and glances upwards accusingly.

Given that the gurgling, growling sound coming out of its mouth vaguely sounded like a child imitating animal noises, for a second Barbara allows herself to hope that this is the toddler of one of her classmates dressed up for some form of sick prank. Maybe that’s not actually her stethoscope, she thinks. That hope is quickly dashed as she gingerly lifts up the drool covered instrument. That’s definitely her signature on the masking tape label, and this stethoscope was _definitely_ chewed through. 

“Oh god.” She mutters. This thing can do damage with those teeth. 

Barbara continues her sweeping motions with the broomstick. Like a pissed off cat the weird demon child hisses, spits and swats at the offending implement. She manages to herd it into the corner of the room to the backyard entrance so she can open the door and shoo it out. Hopefully contained and away from anything of value. It can munch on her rusty trowel while she simultaneously debates with herself whether to call the police or animal control and contemplates what she might have done in a past life to be so unlucky in her current one, because she’s too tired for this sh—

A loud crackle and a horrid wail of pain rips through the air, stunning Barbara in place. The creature takes the chance to shove its way through the slight gap between her legs back inside, causing her to almost lose balance.

Barbara cringed as she heard the scratching of nails across her hardwood floor as the tiny intruder frantically scurried to the living room. She quietly followed to where the little creature was attempting to squeeze itself underneath her lawson sofa, remarkably succeeding after a few moments. Though a pair of tiny blue hind feet were still peeking out. She can hear sniffles and a soft moaning, as if it’s on the verge of tears, but suppressing them so as to not reveal its location. A pang of guilt rushes through her as Barbara puts down her makeshift weapon.

The exhausted medical student lets out an exhale as a childhood memory returns to her. The stray kitten that had spent the cold night underneath their backyard deck had finally decided to enter their family’s humble abode. As an impatient little girl she was naturally ecstatic when she came home from school to be told the cute little calico had snuck under the couch in the TV room. She had crouched down in front of its hiding spot to say hello, only to frighten the poor thing back outside.

Barbara figures that it would be best to leave the sad little gremlin alone so that it can calm down and won’t scurry somewhere else. She drops herself onto the adjacent couch and takes the opportunity to ponder her current situation. 

First off, the creature appears to have a violent reaction to sunlight. Now, given that it looks and sounds eerily similar to that of a human child, as a future doctor deliberately causing pain to children was not an option, human or not. She’ll have to wait until nightfall to do anything. Furthermore, even with those huge canines and the fact that she had clearly hurt it, the frightened creature at no point made an attempt to harm her in return. It was merely bark and no bite.

Secondly, the matter of who to call, and whether or not she should call anybody. Her current theories on her uninvited guest include urban legend, escaped government experiment, or some child with an extremely rare birth defect. With the first two Barbara’s sleep addled brain runs wild with thoughts of him becoming some roadside attraction or strapped to a dissection table. And she can’t exactly trust any of her friends not to alert the media or national guard. She concludes that as long as the little scamp isn’t a threat she won’t resort to calling anyone.

Meanwhile the latter ironically seemed the most unlikely, after the doctor in training gave it some thought. She’s definitely never heard of a physical condition with a combination of symptoms quite like this. On top of apparently having pica despite an agility that far exceeds that of an infant child estimated two to four years old. Perhaps consuming stainless steel is the secret to a long life. On the off chance one of the textbooks or database articles from her med school has the answer she can’t just book it to the library and hope he doesn’t devour any more of her possessions while she’s gone. For that same reason, a well deserved nap isn’t an option either. Ultimately, Barbara decides to turn on her TV at a low volume to see any news headlines along the lines of _‘Local Blue Mutant Raccoon Terrorizes Citizens By Eating Their Trash Cans’_. While keeping an eye on what her little stray will do next of course. 

Nothing particularly useful stands out to Barbara. Just something about the annual ‘Battle of the Bands’ and that tomorrow will be cloudy to give Arcadia a three day respite from the mid-June heat. From the corner of her vision she vaguely makes out a blue smudge with a pair of bright orbs that almost seem to be glowing in the shadows. Once she turns her head slightly the peeking face quickly slips back under the safety of her favourite sofa.

After ten minutes or so, Barbara begins hearing a whining noise combined with the sound of soft shuffling. The child was in some form of distress but was still in the same place. Was he stuck? 

The young woman decided to chance it and knelt down to see the little guy squirming in the dust and lint. He whines louder and more frantically once they make eye contact and tries to push himself backwards even harder to no avail. Yep, he was stuck alright.

The tip of his stubby horns are pointed backwards, so within the tight space they seem to be hooking into the dust cover fabric on the underside of the sofa. And the fact that he utterly _refuses_ to crawl forwards to where big bad Barbara is waiting for him isn’t helping his predicament much either. The stocky infant isn’t as slender as a cat as he thought he was. She lets out a soft sigh as she tried to suppress her smirk. Okay, so she’ll admit he _is_ actually pretty cute. Softly, the redhead began to speak:

“Aww. Don’t cry now, ‘kay? I’ll get you out in a jiffy.” Barbara hopped up to her feet to go grab a pair of baking mitts from the kitchen, not wanting to pull out the stressed little guy using her bare hands. Her eyes gloss over the clean dish rack before she makes a second glance at the silverware tucked in the side holder. She pulls out a spoon to take with her. Not that she wants to encourage his strange eating habits, but she hopes that it could work as an acceptable peace offering. Or at least be used to prove whether or not he’s a vampire, although she doesn’t recall ever welcoming him in.

As Barbara reaches under her sofa to pull the little fella out she realizes a few seconds too late that she could have just pushed him out from behind. He’s already hissing and snarling so she may as well continue. “I’m sorry little guy” she whispers as she adjusts her body to the side to push him the rest of the way. That way he can at least escape from Barbara’s big red mitts once he’s free.

Swiftly, the infant bounded away, slipping underneath the coffee table before finally backing up into the corner between the wall and the living room shelf. 

Barbara remained seated in place to avoid intimidating the child with sudden movements or her stature. The teary eyed boy was curling in on himself, arms crossing over each other in a self embrace. His fingers were digging into his skin so tightly they could almost pierce the flesh. She felt an urge to give the poor thing a hug, but she had to approach him with care. They sat there for a while, Barbara making sure to blink and break eye contact a few times to not appear as a threat by staring. 

She finally noticed that his left hand had five fingers, while the other had only four. His breathing slowed, but he continued to sniffle and moan softly. 

Bending herself over to be as comfortably at eye level with him as possible, she slowly slid her peace offering towards him. The nervous boy glanced down but made no move to take the object presented to him. While he wasn’t looking, Barbara subtly inched her body a bit closer to be within arms reach.

Her hand moves towards the cornered stray at a patient pace. The doctor in training softly repeats different words of comfort: “There, there.” “It’s okay.” “I won’t hurt you.” She paused at a reasonable distance to let him smell her. Then, her outstretched hand rises and falls onto the child’s head in a gentle stroke. She repeats, her fingers brushing through the course texture of his dark, wild hair. 

The gesture made him stare off into the distance with a confused and almost pained expression, but he does not pull away or snap his teeth. 

It occurs to Barbara that he may have never been touched like this before. 

Over time, the sniffling ceases and his hackles lower. His shoulders slump and the grip on his arms weakens. His eyes flutter shut and he begins to sway with the strokes of her hand. Feeling more confident, Barbara shifts closer and begins scratching behind his ear, and she swore she could see him grinning. It’s only once his arms drop and his breathing turns to a calm rhythm that she stops, realizing the child has fallen asleep. 

Lifting herself up with her numb legs, Barbara decides it’s time to do the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She awakes to an unexpected weight on her chest. 

As the young woman groans half-asleep the weight disappears and she hears something drop to the floor. The first thing she notices as light enters the cracks of her eyelids is that she isn’t on her bed. She’s on her sofa. The moment she looks at the thing that dropped, memories of only a few hours ago rush back to her. 

“Ah.” This is real. What to do now, she thought. It’s 3:46 PM. The sun is still beating down on Arcadia. Her little stray looks up at her from under her coffee table expectantly; the handle of what looked to be her peace offering sticking out of his mouth before being abruptly pulled into the abyss. He takes a couple cautious steps forward and tilts his head with a cooing noise that she almost felt mirrored her ‘ah’. Barbara is pleased to see him no longer in fear of her.

Her stomach gurgles to chime in that it’s been nearly twelve hours since she last ate. An idea pops into her mind; now is a good time to try and introduce the boy to actual human food. 

From the kitchen she takes an assortment of items from every food group, including a cherry tomato, a cucumber, a carrot, a slice of cheddar, a pepperoni stick, some apple slices, a white bread bun, and an oreo for good measure. 

“I brought you snacks” the redhead chirps as she slides the platter in front of the child. She takes a bite of one of the apple slices “Mmmmmm” and watches hopefully as the little guy sniffs the food in front of him. 

Only for the tiny miscreant to bite the plastic plate and lift it up, allowing the food to unceremoniously plop onto the floor, veggies bouncing off in different directions. She blinks a few times. 

After wrestling the plate from his mouth, she carefully waves the oreo in front of the little guy’s face -just sort of… hoping he doesn’t bite her _hand_ too- before he scrunches his nose and turns his head with a grunt. This would be the part where she says she won’t give up, but if a cookie doesn’t appeal to a child, nothing will. She concludes that this may simply be nature at work. That, and she just doesn’t feel like picking up any more wasted food right now; she has to eat too, you know.

Returning to the kitchen, Barbara is left with the decision of what safe utensils she can afford to sacrifice. She only has so many forks and spoons to spare, so she goes for the most inexpensive objects that haven’t been touched in a long time. She hardly ever cooks so it wasn’t a huge deal, anyway. 

James was the chef in their relationship after all.

Seemingly satisfied by her selection, the child digs in. The redhead starts a pot of water to boil some eggs for her grocery store kit Caesar salad while her little stray enjoys his meal. However, once the eggs are cooled down enough to touch she felt a tiny hand brushing against her leg. Could it be?

“Do you want this egg?” She asks. Kneeling down she begins peeling away the eggshell in front of him, dropping the remains onto the floor to trash later, and presents the hard-boiled egg. He gives the offering a sniff and takes it from her hand. 

Success!!! ...Okay, _sure_ , he’s eating the eggshell too, but Barbara will still call it a win. She smiles and raises a fist in triumph, noticing he flinched a little at the action. 

After licking the last remains of his meal, the child lets out a yawn. With his mouth gaping open, he reveals an array of healthy teeth (eggshell bits stuck in between a few) with pointy underbite canines front and center. He crawls back to the living room and hops onto the very same sofa he had sought refuge under this morning. The little guy curls up in between the armrest and a pillow he had lifted over himself to form some makeshift tent. It seems that her strange houseguest is nocturnal. After finishing her salad, Barbara decides that now is a good time to pull out her textbooks to study. They remain together comfortably on the lawson sofa for quite some time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The redhead lifts herself up to stretch her body. The clock now reads 9:34 PM. As she does a rotator cuff stretch she glances down behind her to see the little guy had just woken up from her disturbing the cushions. 

She’ll admit that he isn’t bad company. A mystery in many ways, and positively beastly, yet still better behaved than most other children she’s met in her life. But she can’t let him stay. As a doctor in training she won’t be home often enough to look after him. Barbara is already having a hard enough time taking care of herself, let alone another living being. And what will she do with him during her three-year commission? She has to resist the urge to give him a name, or she may want to keep him.

However, it seems that her little guest has read her mind. He hops off of the sofa and pitter patters on all fours off to the backyard entrance. Barbara follows him to see the infant pawing at the door. He turns around and babbles at her expectantly. 

She takes in a deep breath and exhales. She isn’t sure if letting an infant wander off into the night all alone is a good idea, but he’s survived on his own this long, right? Nature is different, perhaps even more different than she had ever known. 

As Barbara opens the door, the dancing of tree leaves in the gentle summer breeze beckons the little stray boy forward as he crosses the threshold and walks out into the moonlight. He stops in front of the edge and gazes back at Barbara one last time, his eyes carrying a yellow glow. Effortlessly, he leaps over her fence with grace. 

Or at least he _would_ have, were it not for his pre-jump feline wiggles and landing halfway on the barrier, belly first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, the little guy came back. Then again, and again, and again. Despite her reservations, she decides it’s simply easier to let him stay. 

She’ll call him Jim.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is my very first fanfic ever and I haven't done creative writing since Junior High. Please let me know what you think or correct me if I get any of my Trollhunters facts wrong as you see fit. Have a good day~


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